The Western Storm
by lord admiral belisarius
Summary: Across the ocean to the west lies a nation, the Cheonsang Federation.  In order to deal with internal problems of famine and depression, they plan to invade the Elemental Countries.  Politics and action intertwine in this clash of nations.
1. Before the Storm

First Naruto fic in a while. To preemptively answer a few questions that I think will pop up.

Yes, the reasoning for this scenario is somewhat contrived and silly. I'm not aiming for total realism here, and I think that some justification is better than nothing.

The Cheonsang Federation is based on a 1950's era USSR, say around 1957. Why USSR? because though I personally disagree with the communist system, the USSR and the Red Army in particular fascinate me.

I don't think either side at the onset would totally defeat the other in a one-sided fight. You can debate modern army vs ninja all you want, but that is only partially relevant to the events of this story.

The Cheonsang Army probably fight closer to US forces than actual Soviet forces because I am most familiar with the US Military.

I know how it is weird that I use both metric and english system together. Just deal with it.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Before the Storm**

**1 Aug PB 1561**

**Cheonsang Federation**

The meeting room as mostly unadorned. Venetian blinds adorned the single window to the outside. A round table made of polished oak was situated in the center of the room. It could seat up to amny but for this meeting there were only six people seated. A plain and utilitarian grey carpet covered the floor. The walls were painted an off-white. A few lights in plain fixtures illuminated the room. The men seated here were President Ku Myung, Vice President Yi Dak-Ho, Admiral Pak Cho of the Second Fleet, General Kim Hak-Kun of the Sixth Army, General Doh Mal-Chin of the Third Air Force, and Minister of Finance Rho Min.

President Ku Myung was not a particularly imposing man. He was short, only coming out to about five feet and three inches in height. His head was mostly bald, save for a few wisps of grey hair. His skin was weathered and wrinkled, and he had a slight paunch. He wore thick, horn rimmed glasses along with a black two-piece suit and dark green tie. With this, the old man wore a vertically pinstriped shirt to draw attention away from his girth. However, the president had a force of personality that made him much larger than his mere physical size would indicate.

He began, "Gentlemen, as you know, we are currently undergoing a famine just after a rather large population boom. That is not to say that we didn't have food stored or that we aren't rationing it, but we have approximately one month before the people begin to starve. As you also know, our neighbors are enemies that won't trade with us. However, spy ships from Admiral Pak's Third Fleet discovered another continent across the East Sea and later inserted a few agents. This land has plenty food. There is a problem, though; it is a feudal land with the exception of a few hidden villages. Ridiculously enough, there are mercenaries operating from these hidden villages that have superhuman abilities that are simply magical. My question is: gentlemen, do we go about buying the quantities of food needed or do we go about taking it by force?"

Admiral Pak Cho was a good head taller than the president and very lanky. He had a long nose and narrow facial features that gave him the look of a hawk. An eyepatch covered his right eye. His hair, though full, was nearing white in color. The admiral's skin was slightly discolored from salt spray; he was a sailor at heart even when confined to a desk job nowadays. His white cover was on his head, seeing as he was armed with a pistol. He wore the navy blue, single-breasted coat and matching trousers with a dress shirt and black tie. His shoulder boards had a diamond of four brass stars over a dragon-turtle stitched into the black leather in gold thread. A good dozen ribbons covered his chest; decorations were not given out like candy, so he had actually earned them.

"I stand with my original plan of invasion. The biggest trouble would be their, for a lack of a better term, superhuman mercenaries. However, if the Air Force would be willing to simply nuke their 'hidden villages' we should be able to roll in an expeditionary force virtually unopposed. At best, my naval birds can carry 5 kiloton nukes out to about 1500 kilometers. That said, your strategic bombers can only go on a 10,000 kilometer trip one way. That is why I plan to nuke the closest of these hidden villages, The Village Hidden in the Mist, until it glows and then use their islands as a base for your bombers. Even if the Air Force is unwilling to send in their strategic bombers, they would still be needed not just for transport both of soldiers and equipment to the frontlines, but for bringing back food in a timely fashion. Now, the merchant marine could obviously do this, but it would take much longer, and transport ships are better used for bringing in heavy equipment like tanks and other such things.

As I previously stated, my plan is to initially invade Water Country. Following the nuking of their Hidden Village, they should be easy to conquer. However, they are just a stepping stone to mainland. Water Country also provides an excellent base for strategic bombers from the reconnaissance reports. As you might expect from their name and status as an island nation, they have plenty ports for our fleet to use. The biggest issue would be the size of our capital ships. I personally believe that fast battleships could be useful because of the number of small islands that we could end up bombarding.

Following the conquest of Water Country, I would proceed to Wave Country, a small nation linked to the mainland by the Great Naruto Bridge. At the very least, we can inspect any ships in harbor and seize any cargo necessary to accomplish our objectives. The bridge should be able to hold a main battle tank's weight and provide a great avenue for our land traffic. With the Hidden Villages nuked by now, their should be little tough opposition against an an otherwise medieval opponent There is one wild card though, The Village Hidden in the Sound, it is the only hidden village that is actually hidden. I cannot predict how they will react. Furthermore, they control Rice Country, a real breadbasket for food that we should seize as soon as possible."

Minister of Finance Rho Min was the youngest of the men at the table, being only fifty years old. He wore round, steel rimmed glasses. He had a full head of dark hair and round facial features. However, the neck was wear the soft features ended, being a tall, broad shouldered man with thick arms and legs. He wore a charcoal double breasted blazer with khaki trousers and a black tie. He smoked a cigar, occasionally using it like a pointer.

The Minister of Finance made his case, saying, "I am not in favor of war. War is expensive, and our current industry is not up to producing for a serious war. Furthermore, we could not deal with the sudden influx of people forming personnel costs that would requires us to print yet more money to pay them. And it still won't solve the food problems. Furthermore, can you think of the public outcry of a war of conquest. We can spin it as 'liberation' all we want, but our rhetoric which we espouse to the people nowadays is against conquest. I don't think any civil unrest would be anything we couldn't deal with, but it could easily cause us to lose the trust of our people. Finally, we are not in a time of great economic strength. The best option for us is to limit federal spending as much as reasonable possible and to lower taxes, something that is not reasonable in a time of war.

We also need to project an image of strength to other nations. If the reasons for this war become known, we could be in great trouble as our enemies capitalize on our weakness. We know they have suspicions. I propose simply trading with them; however, the biggest issue is likely that our paper money will be worth nothing to them. We could barter, especially with regards to internal combustion engines technology or with some of our agricultural technology and expertise. There is also the issue of them stealing and reverse engineering technology that we really don't want them to get their hands on, though I doubt they have the precision machinery necessary for even our assault rifles, let alone a tank or nuke.

Finally, I am unsure of the readiness of our forces. We all know that there has not been a ground war in twenty years. Our officer corp needs to be cleaned out and our infantry is green and untested.. As you are all well aware of, I think we spend too much of our GDP on defense anyway. I'm not sure we can handle the massive mobilization this operation would entail."

The president nodded, but Admiral Cho did not seem convinced by the Minister of Finance's argument.

General Doh Mal-Chin was s short and wiry man, skin wrinkled and creased. His face was squared with a neatly trimmed mustache and thinning grey hair combed back under his grey cover. He too was armed with a service pistol at his belt. His aviator style sunglasses sat on the table. The Air Force general wore the grey jacket and trousers with a black tie in the same style as the uniforms of the other general level officers. His shoulder bars had four brass stars with a winged dragon stitched into the black leather with the same gold thread as the admiral. He too had a good number of ribbons and medals.

"Personally I agree with the Minister of Finance on this issue. I don't think we can go to war while preserving our economy, fragile as it is. I'm sorry Admiral Cho, but I cannot spare any strategic bombers to your campaign. They are needed for our nuclear deterrent. However, I probably could lend you a few ground based fighters and attack planes. They would need to be shipped over, mind you, but I could provide that support.

Were we to go to war, I do like your plan to simply take out the biggest threats in one shot. Two minutes of nuclear fire should be able to annihilate any target. There would be near total fatalities within a circle 6.1 kilometers in diameter, widespread destruction within a circle 16.6 kilometers in diameter, and second and third degree burns within a circle 27.6 kilometers in diameter.

My main issue would be basing close air support planes. Not only do we have to build our own airfields and worry about sabotage, but there aren't any local fuel stores that we could really use. I suppose we could modify the engines to run on ethanol, but it wears out engines faster than conventional aviation gasoline, has a lower flash point, and produce toxic vapors that are a hazard to everyone. Furthermore, it isn't as efficient a fuel as aviation gasoline, reducing the range of any aircraft using it. The best option would be synthesizing aviation fuel on site from biomass since that produces a safe fuel very close to mineral kerosene. The only problem with that is the lack of sulfur, which self-lubricates engines. However, it would be trivial to ship or fly in sulfur to add to the fuel to keep the self-lubricating properties of normal mineral kerosene. The final option is to ship in aviation kerosene, but that is the most expensive option. This can also oil warships, allowing them to stay on station longer and reduce the amount of fleet oilers needed for this expedition."

There was silence as the men present digested the words of the air force general. President Myung turned to General Kim Hak-Kun. The General was easily the oldest man at table, at an age of seventy-two. In the same style as the other two generals, he wore a cover and service pistol. In his case, however, the Army's uniform was a dark olive green jacket and trousers. He had most medals and ribbons, having served through the last two wars the country had fought. His face was narrow and gaunt with large ears.

"Gentlemen, I think we should examine this more rationally. Firstly, with regards to a nuclear war with our enemies, I find that to be highly unlikely. The reason we have so many nuclear weapons is not so that we can rain genocidal nuclear fire upon another continent, but to make sure that enough bombers can get through to destroy every major city they have several times over; it, as some sadly believe, is also not a metaphoric phallus measuring contest. The lack of perhaps four to twelve bombers will not be missed for our national defense. We have a considerable safety margin to allow for this.

Furthermore, while this is a major undertaking, we are also in a major famine and depression. While I do not doubt the destructive effect of war on an economy, one must also look at the temporary benefits it brings. Also, since our own infrastructure will be safe, some of the destructive effects of war will be mitigated. While I understand Mr. Min's concern, this is a move that could save us in more ways than one. Try to think of it from my point of view. If we conquer it and bring it into our own country, it will need to be industrialized and modernized to our standards. It is also a fertile land. There will be a need for technical jobs that would simply be nonexistant over there. Not only can be get millions employed in a vast new market, we can solve our famine problem. It is indeed a gamble, but for this, there is no perfect choice. However, I believe that even a defeat would not greatly offset us, while a victory will be a great gain. If you wish for my army to be the sword pushing through to their heart, I would need more detailed info on this before I can come up with a satisfactory plan for a land war."

The other men nodded.

President Ku Myung turned to his Vice-President, Yi Dak-Ho. The Vice President was man both short and round. He had a full head of greying hair, neatly parted. He wore a plain pair of rectangular, steel rimmed glasses. He wore a plain black coat and trousers with a pinstriped vest and green shirt. His tie was a neat black.

"Mr. Dak-Ho, you simply aren't here to watch and learn from my example. Would you kindly state your opinion on this matter."

"Well, Mr. President, I concur with General Hak-Kun on this matter. I believe not only can we spare the manpower and machines, but it would be conductive to our national strength. With Admiral Cho's nuclear first strike plan, we can quickly roll in virtually unopposed. The resources can be quickly secured and shipped back, and we open up an entire new market which can allow for great economic growth, solving our two current crises.

With that said, we will need some extensive Public Relations work. I think we should talk first to them. If they refuse to meet our demands, they can perish in nuclear fire. If we can engineer it into looking like we started this war of conquest in self-defense after they attacked us in spite of our diplomatic attempts, I think the general public would support us."

President Myung nodded before saying, "Well gentlemen, thank you for your time. While your advice is often very useful, I'm sorry Mr. Min, but I will present the idea of a war before the Grand Assembly in the next session. That said, I want your constant input with regards to the spending on this war. You are all dismissed."

* * *

8 Aug PB 1561

Hi no Kuni – Fire Country

"So you said this was important," said the old man, looking at the man they had placed into the interrogation room.

The man next to him, a young man with sunglasses grey slacks and white shirt and tie, nodded.

"You see, Jiraiya-sama, we know this man is a spy. He's been asking some suspicious questions and we've had our men tailing him for a while now. Some of what he wanted was just mundane information, but other stuff was military related. For the life of us, we can't figure out who he might be working for. The most likely would be Orochimaru, but he seems to be telling the truth when he says that he doesn't. There were a few things that gave him away that you might want to look out for. For one, he sometimes sits with his legs crossed in a figure four position. There's an accent, however slight that you should hear. He also has a different look to him than most people. One of the things we found with him was a large radio of foreign make. All the lettering is in a different language and it has a greater quality than what we could manufacture. We've been trying to break him for a week now."

"Alright, Makoto-san, thank you. I'll see this man myself."

"Yes sir."

The Toad Sage had the door to the interrogation room opened for him as he walked in. The man sat in the chair, hands cuffed behind him. He wasn't nervous at the approach of the legendary ninja, either through testicular fortitude or simple ignorance of the man in front of him. This man was of average height. His hair was dark, and he was neither particularly young nor old. His skin had a slightly different tone that most and his face seemed almost more flattened than a normal person. However, the man was mostly nondescript and seemed like could easily lose himself in a crowd to hide or escape. His clothing was just as nondescript, a green t-shirt and black jeans with sandals. In short, he looked like a good spy.

"A smoke?" asked the bound man, "On second thought, no. You'd probably just drug it or something."

He laughed at his own joke. Jiraiya wasn't amused.

"Let's get this straight, Sato-san, we know you aren't with us. We know you are a spy," said Jiraiya, releasing a little killing intent, "You can tell us what we want and your life will be much less painful."

"Fuck man, I just want a smoke. My name is Sato Jun. You're illegally detaining a citizen. Just let me go," nonchalantly returned the man, unfazed, "You're Jiraiya of the Sannin, right? Why are you illegally detaining of your fellow countrymen? Fuck man, I've got a wife and kids."

"Who do you work for, Sato-san? Also, I know you don't have a wife or children."

"I don't, but it was worth a shot."

"I'd really like to know who you radio in with that foreign built radio set you have. That would just make my day, Sato-san."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Somebody is trying to set me up here. My name is Sato Jun and I'm innocent."

"He's already given himself away," thought Jiraiya, "I'm recognizing some of the counter-interrogation things he's doing."

A fist went into "Sato Jun's" stomach.

"Fuck man. There are laws and shit. I don't know what you're talking about. I want to go home, maybe hit a bar until all this shit fades from my memories. Yeah, that would be nice."

"You do know who I am, right? I recognize your counter-interrogation tactics. I am not a stupid man. Tell me who you work for and we might be friends."

"I'm inno-"

The punch caught him in the middle of the word.

"No. You and I both know you are lying."

"Those yakuza really hate my guts, framing me like this."

Jiraiya had been told that this was Sato Jun's official story, but his own yakuza contacts had told him otherwise. They knew nothing of the man. A snap of bone.

"Fuck! That was my finger, you bastard!" spat Sato.

"There are plenty more digits in your hand. Tell me who you work for and why you are here, and I'll even heal your finger."

"I don't kn-"

"Yes you do!" shouted Jiraiya, releasing a large amount of killing intent toward the spy. He unsheathed a kunai, bringing it up to Sato's throat.

The man began to hyperventilate. He was scared.

"Alright. Shit man, I'll tell you. My actual name is Kim Yong. I work for the Central Investigation Bureau. My job was to find out general information about population centers, military forces, and important industrial facilities and radio it back. That is all. I was only here to listen and learn."

"Thank you Kim-san for your cooperation. Let's get that hand of yours fixed. Tell me more about this Central Investigation Bureau."

* * *

11 Aug PB 1561

Cheonsang Federation

The Assembly Buildingl of the Grand Assembly was a large building, necessarily so to contain the two-hundred representatives of the 100 provinces of the Cheonsang Federation. It had a series of imposing columns supporting a gently sloping, triangular roof. The architecture hearkened back to a modern re-imagining of classical styles. Tall windows allowed light into the outer area of the building. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, all armed with assault rifles, though they did have access to some larger weapons. A large garrison flag flew above the central dome, a plain blue with a single white star in the center.

President Ku Myung was allowed entrance through the wrought iron gates, guards saluting at his approach. He returned it sharply. Two guards escorted him on either side, as if part of some color guard. The President was as much a symbol of the country as the flag was.

The day was grey and overcast as the three walked down the path through the lawn to the steps of the imposing building. The white of the building made almost like a light in the darkness of these troubled times. As always, the president was sharply dressed, today in a black three-piece pinstriped suit with a burgundy shirt and tie.

The armed guards at the door to the building saluted sharply before opening the large portal. Myung's shoes clicked on the polished tile as he entered the building. Another pair of guards at the door to the Assembly Chamber saluted as he approached. He saluted back. The door opened to the inner sanctum of the building in which the decisions which affected the entire nation were made. The walls were made to withstand even armor piercing autocannon fire. The floor was covered in a blue carpet to match the flag outside. The walls were paneled with polished mahogany. A number of desks filled the room on several levels in what was like an amphitheater. A number of soldiers watched closely from the upper balcony. The entire room grew silent upon his entrance. He walked between the aisles to the central podium of the floor. The guards stopped at the door. The old man stepped up, looking at the crowd of faces.

President Ku Myung addressed the Grand Assembly of the Cheonsang Federation, "As you are well aware of, gentlemen, times are not the best for our grand nation. We do not have enough food. The economy is entering into a great depression. Our enemies grow stronger, pressing and prodding us from all sides. It might seem as though there is nothing to do to stop this downward spiral. However, gentlemen, that is not the case. Just this week, I had private meeting with a few important men over this grave matter. I believe we have come to a solution should you gentlemen ratify it.

As some of you are probably well aware of, there is another continent to the east. As of now, it has been left well alone by both us and our enemies. I do not know why, it is simply a tradition, perhaps because according to the history books it was horrifically devastated by the weapons of the last great war while the peoples of the rest of the world crawled out from the ashes of war to be born anew.

However, my advisors and I have concluded that perhaps the way to bring our nation back to the glory and prosperity that it rightfully deserves is to send an expedition to this land. One way or another, we will attain the resources we require and perhaps even bring them into the fold of our grand Cheonsang Federation. Our enemies may be strong perhaps, but they have a weak feudal society boiling for a revolution and a populace kept in line by fear. Our enemies are clustered in a series of hidden villages. They might have abilities that can only be supernatural, but we have the power of nuclear fire.

Gentlemen, I understand your hesitance at the usage of a nuclear first strike upon a target, but I must implore you that this is the only safe way to protect our own troops and allow them to triumph. Furthermore, they all lack the capacity to retaliate with nuclear weapons of their own.

However, as always, violence is not the first resort of the great Cheonsang Federation. We are a reasonable nation. We will bring them to the diplomacy table to discuss acquiring our needed resources without armed conflict. Still, gentlemen, there should be an iron hard fist behind the glove of velvet. Even if we must come to blows as I fear, there is still a hope. We will be the shining cavalry to liberate the common man from their feudal oppressors.

'Spending should not be increased in a time of economic depression,' says the naysayer. However, it is sometimes necessary to shoulder a temporary burden for a greater good. I hate to be a fatalistic man, but I can only see our power coming to conflict with the Elemental Countries of this continent.

In closing, the choice is up to you. However, I believe this to either a be a vote for the greater prosperity of our nation or a vote toward a downward spiral. I understand that you all are your own men and a man must choose. With that said, gentlemen, I implore you allow this operation to help save our starving nation. That will be all."

After answering questions, the president stepped down from the podium to the applause of much of the Grand Assembly. President Myung couldn't tell whether or not this was a real or fake applause. He could only rely on his supporters and those persuaded by his tongue. However, the President left the Assembly Building with a good feeling. The guards followed him. He walked out through light drizzle to his car, a small limo based on a sedan, up-armored to protect from most threats Inside was Vice President Yi Dak-Ho.

"So Mr. President, how do you think the meeting went?"

"Well, I think I did well. I think we can get the majority vote necessary for this."

"That's good. Driver, would you please bring us over to the presidential residence?"

"Yes sir," replied the man, starting up the car as they drove through the rain.

* * *

17 Aug PB 1561

Konoha

"Tsunade, I do have something of pressing concern that I need to tell you," stated Jiraiya plainly to his longtime comrade. The tall man with his long white hair tied back leaned against the railing. The old woman leaned up against it also. She was tired, so tired. Rebuilding a village was a great deal of work. Plenty nowadays were living in the tent city outside of Konoha and more than a few had left the city entirely, seeing the risks as too great to stay.

"What is it Jiraiya?" asked Tsunade, yawning as she did so.

"I captured a spy. Now that might not seem like such a big deal, except this spy was from another third party. The Central Investigation Bureau of the Cheonsang Federation. They are a superpower from across the ocean to the west. They've been inserting agents into the Elemental Countries for a while now. Nothing more than basic surveillance and reconnaissance. However, this is the sort of thing that tends to precede an invasion. I'm worried, Tsunade. They've got weapons far in advance of what we have. It is my opinion that a frontal battle would simply have us losing to say nothing of conventional forces. As much as I hate to say it, we and Fire Country by extension would be best off allying with them for pure survival. I find it hard to believe, but the agent we captured, Kim Yong aka 'Sato Jun,' said they have thousands of city killing weapons. I suppose we could act like traditional ninja and be stealthy, but our training doesn't emphasize this nearly as much as I think it should. There is also the fact that they speak an entirely different language and have an entirely different culture making infiltration much more difficult."

"And your point with that speculation is? You already stated that you think an alliance would be best. However, we do have a bicameral legislative body. Our 'House of Lords' as some would call it with the ninja clans is likely to be very much behind you and me, but in our 'House of Commons,' the commoners are sometimes downright confrontational which I find to be simply illogical, but they are more businessmen than soldiers and they pay a greater tax than the ninja clans. The decisions we make do effect them more than the ninja clans. It isn't some omnipotent council of doom, but it has to be taken into account."

"I understand, my dear Tsunade. Why do you think I didn't take the job as Hokage? Too much stress, and I don't have any jutsu to keep me looking pretty like you do. I don't think my hair can get any whiter, and I don't want any ulcers."

Tsunade laughed and it was a clear and carefree laugh that truly warmed Jiraiya's aging heart. He might have been a shameless pervert, but when it came to her, his love was as solid as stone. There was also an unbreakable bond of loyalty there to his comrades, both from his own personal experience and from the values instilled into Konoha ninja.

"Y'know, I think we should reinstate those combined arms exercises with the Daimyo's army. If a war is coming, we need to be able to work smoothly with the conventional chain of command of the Fire Country's Army, the HiKuRi. We might be the scalpel that surgically annihilates threats, but the HiKuRi is the hammer that smashes apart the enemy," commented Jiraiya after a peaceful silence.

Pigeons flitted through the air, casting shadows through the fading sunlight over the rebuilding village. Devastation had been widespread both from the initial assaults and street-to-street, house-to-house fighting. They were still finding a few bodies in the rubble every day now from civilians enemy ninja, and Konoha ninja.

"I'd like to know your opinion on telling the Daimyo about this Cheonsang Federation," said the Hokage, playing around with the pronunciation of the foreign word, "Personally, I'd like to limit the spread of this information so as not to tip off these people that we know that they know about us."

Jiraiya whistled, "Well, if that is the case, why are we talking about it up here where any enterprising spy can listen in?"

"You're not as dumb as you look, Jiraiya. I saw you dropping a few privacy seals. What is your honest opinion, oh great spymaster?"

"To be honest, I think we should share it with the Daimyo but tell him to simply keep this card close to his chest for the moment. I think that he would be plenty happy to incorporate Konoha ninja into conventional army exercises. He gets to have us actually working with him in the way that he would like. We can also get valuable recon and vanguard practice for our genin teams. We will be the spearhead the punches the hole for conventional forces in a conventional scenario while guarding flanks and supply lines."

"You really have a good military mind, Jiraiya. You should've become Hokage."

"Too much stress and I wouldn't be able to see you all the time."

"You never change, do you?"

"Nope," returned the old sage, laughing, "And you wouldn't have it any other way. What do you say to some sake before retiring for the day?"

"I think I'd like to, Jiraiya. That's sounding really nice right now."

"My princess, even the Hokage needs to kick back and relax sometimes."

The two went back inside as the sun shone a beautiful red as it receded down over the horizon.

* * *

31 August PB 1561

Cheonsang Federation

Senior Soldier Gyo Il-Sung was a mere nineteen years old. His face while still fresh and young had a much more serious look to it. His eyebrows were thick and bushy. Gyo Il-Sung was not a tall man, being only five feet and six inches tall. Thankfully, his height made squeezing into the armored personnel carriers of his mechanized brigade much easier than people like his platoon leader, the six foot tall Jr. Lieutenant Pak Myung-Dae. Il-Sung was dressed in woodland splinter fatigues, olive drab flak vest and a one-piece helmet with a similarly patterned fabric cover.

He carried a BJS-52 assault rifle. It was relatively short gun, coming in at 75 centimeters in length. The barrel was 45 centimeters long and the grips and chunky handguard were made from black plastic. Unusually, the magazine and action were behind the trigger, shifting weight more to the rear and giving the gun a futuristic look. Because of this design, the stock was nothing more than a curved piece of steel attached to the receiver which also caused the sights to be raised. The action was cycled by the rifle's recoil and it fed 6.35x38 millimeter ammo from a sickle-shaped 30 round magazine. A pair of rods extended parallel to the barrel to mount a muzzle booster. The upper rod mounted the front sight, and lower mounted bayonet lug. This was Senior Soldier Gyo Il-Sung's rifle. There were many like it, but this one was his.

"Hey Sergeant, why are we out here again?" asked Gyo in his slightly reedy voice.

"The brass want us to practice trap shooting with assault rifles at 25-400 meters," returned Sergeant Li Min.

Gyo nodded as they stepped up to the skeet range. The instructor on duty, an lean older man with salt and pepper hair cut high and tight with a very mean look began to shout out the instructions.

"One at a time, you will progress up to the shooting position. You will take the safety off your rifle and set it to semi-automatic. There will be thirty traps throwing up clays at ranges of 25-400 meters. After everyone has finished, the process will be repeated except with selector set to fully automatic fire. Am I understood?"

"Sir, yes sir," chorused the twelve man section.

"First is Corporal Doh Jung."

Doh, a man that could be described as snakelike from his narrow eyes to his wiry figure to his predatory movements, stepped up. He carried a standard BSJ-52. He squinted his green eyes and looked around. A clay was flung up in the air at about fifty meters. A bullet punched through and shattered the clay. Another one popped up at about 120 meters. Doh fired and missed. Eventually, Doh finished with five hits, all within 100 meters.

"Next, Senior Soldier Gyo Il-Sung."

The young soldier stepped up to the plate as he set the rifle to semi-automatic fire with the BSJ's characteristic clack. The first clay popped up at around 300 meters. Gyo snapped off a a shot which shattered the plate. The next one popped up at 25 meters, and the senior soldier missed. Gyo finished with 3 hits at 300, 75, and 109 meters.

* * *

Lieutenant Seo Yong-Sun taxied his J-17 fighter-bomber onto the deck of the aircraft carrier _Red Evening_. For himself, Seo was a surprisingly large man to fit into the cramped cockpit of the J-17. The yellow clad director was still telling him to hold it. Just to be sure, Seo checked the instruments and checked the controls, making sure everything was in order. For this training flight, he carried a pair of 250 kilogram drop tanks and a 500 kilogram dummy nuke.

"_Red Evening _0302_,_ you are clear for takeoff," came the voice of the director into his headset.

"Roger that, Director. Launching."

In order for Seo to clear the deck safely, he needed to use the afterburner upon takeoff to get enough thrust for the plane to fly. At military power, the aircraft could only take off with a light air-to-air or air-to-ground loadout. For anything greater, afterburner was necessary. The fighter jet accelerated quickly across the rolling deck of the carrier. It was timed perfectly, the J-17 pitched up on the ski jump right as the carrier was rolling up on a wave. There was a palpable sense of hanging in the air right before the plane began to fly normally over the waves. The main pilots had already performed the training mission, but now it was time for the backup pilots like him to take a turn at this exercise.

He drew to the other planes of the sortie mock up. It was very strange to have practice for an all-out nuclear strike sortie without a CAP of any sort to watch over the strike planes. Silently, he nudged the plane over into an echeloned four-man formation. The plan was for the first wave to strike from the south, the second wave from the northeast, and the third from the northwest. The mock-up city on the coastline came into view. They began their approach from the south, spreading out the formation. Seo switched on the bombsight as they drew near.

"First wave, begin your attack run."

Seo and the others in the wave nosed their J-17s into a 45 degree dive. The wind howled over the planes. Strangely, there were no simulated air defenses in this exercise. They hadn't even made an approach to go under radar. At 3000 meters, they dropped and pulled up, quickly ascending away from the imaginary nuclear fireballs.

"Good job first wave, there looks like a good overlapping pattern to insure total target destruction," called one of the ground observers.

* * *

23 September PB 1561

Cheonsang Federation

"Shit, TC. I'm going to be puking before this damn rocking stops," moaned Soldier Pak Chang-Uk inside the angular turret of the T-50 main battle tank to the Tank Commander, Sergeant Kim Min-Su.

"Shut up, would you? And pull up an HE round from the ready rack," growled the gunner, Corporal Kim Ki-Hun.

"Yes sir," returned the loader as he pulled up a 110 millimeter round from the nine round rack, keeping it in his lap.

"I fucking hate amphibious landings in a tank. We've got to keep the bore covered and keep the chamber empty to protect from salt spray. No AP round in the chamber to fire ASAP," complained Chang-Uk.

"Why are you a Marine tanker anyway if you hate amphibious operations, Chang-Uk?" asked the driver, Soldier Jun Min-Ho.

"If war ever happens, I wanted to be in the force that would be first into the fight and wrecking the enemy's shit," returned the loader.

The commander popped the hatch of his cupola and looked out toward the beachhead with a pair of binoculars.

"We're close. Everyone ready?"

"Yes sir," chorused the tank crew.

"Load round."

Chang-Uk rammed home the cased shell into the smoothbore tank gun before closing the breech. The old pattern guns would automatically close the breech, but a few impromptu amputations of loaders had caused the gun to be revised. Pak Chang-Uk had a few close calls with the old pattern guns himself. In his opinion, it wasn't an issue as long as the loader was attentive, but it was much safer in the automatically ejecting new pattern guns.

Jun saw the landing ramp lower and shifted into high gear, quickly getting the tank out of the landing craft. Sand was churned up. Infantry streamed onto the beach along with amphibious light tanks armed with 80 millimeter rifled guns that drove onto the the beachhead like monsters emerging from the deep.

"3rd Platoon, focus on the bunkers on the ridge at 10 o' clock," called the platoon leader Yi In-Ho.

"Guns, 10 o' clock high. Bunker. Fire at will."

Without so much as a response, the gunner began to traverse the turret with a whine of an electric motor. He cranked the barrel up before pulling the trigger. A casing flew out, only to be deflected down and away from the crew.

"Hit."

The commander took a look at the bunker through his binoculars as a series of explosions annihilated the mock-up of a bunker. Machine guns peppered the enemy positions. Tanks watched over the infantry like sentinels as they ran forward to begin breaking through the tank traps. Within a few hours, the practice assault was a success.

* * *

25 September PB 1561

Konoha

The Fire Daimyo, Toyotomi Daichi, was a large heavyset man. At one time, he had been a powerful warrior, but not in current days. His wild red hair gave him the look of a barbarian. Nonetheless, he wore an expensive silk kimono in brown and red. He sat in the Hokage's office with Tsunade and Jiraiya. It could be said that the three most powerful people in Fire Country were inside the room. Seals courtesy of Jiraiya gave them privacy.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" asked the hairy Daimyo.

"Well," began Tsunade in her hokage robes, "Jiraiya-san discovered a foreign spy who had been inserted from a nation across the ocean to observe. His assessment is that, were they to come, we'd do well to ally with them. Not only would our position as the most powerful nation in the Elemental Countries be secured, but our unique skills could help us retain independence. From what this spy said when being interrogated, their could make your conventional army of much greater utility during ninja battles."

The large man sat down, stroking his beard as he thought, "I personally agree with Jiraiya-san's opinion provided that the sovereignty of Fire Country can be maintained. My own opinion is that the entirety of the Elemental Countries will be embroiled in another great war. Now, you do know that I try my best, but I would prefer if ninja were actually a part of the military rather than the micronations they end up as that often lead to massive and, in my own opinion, pointless wars. Thankfully, the Third was a good man with whom I saw eye-to-eye. I hope you continue with that tradition. I've been told by my generals that you wish to conduct HiKuRi-Konoha joint exercises. That would be a good idea to foster a greater trust and closeness between the two groups."

"While I disagree with you about the ninja villages, I have to agree with you on most everything else. When do you think we can schedule a joint exercise? My only problem with that is it takes ninja away from missions that help finance us."

The Daimyo laughed, "You really are worthy of the title of Hokage, Tsunade-san. I think we can become very good friends. For funding, don't worry; I can give you enough money for you to participate in these training exercises."

"Excellent. I think I like you too, Daichi-san. Would you like a little sake?"

"Of course, nothing better for a little civilized company. I've been told you have excellent taste."

"I'm liking you even more, Daichi-san. You're a man after my own heart," returned Tsunade, laughing herself.

* * *

A few notes about where I get my acronyms.

HiKuRi comes from Hi no Kuni Rikugun (Jap. roughly Land of Fire Army)

BJS comes from Bobyeong Jadong Sochong (Kor. Infantry Automatic Rifle using google translate)

J-17 comes from Jeontugi 17 (Kor. Fighter using google translate)

T-50 comes from Taengkeu 50(Kor. Tank using google translate)

PB comes from Post Bellum (Lat. After War)


	2. As the War Approaches

I apologize for any typos in advance. I did proofread but some probably slipped by.

If you thought Koreans as Soviets was strange, just wait until you see what I have in mind for the America expy.

Also, a pretty obvious shoutout to one of the most famous film marines of all time.

* * *

Chapter 2

As the War Approaches.

15 November PB 1561

Cheonang Federation

"Oh fuck me," commented Sr. Soldier Gyo Il-Sung, as he marched into the troopship. The assembled task force of navy warships and merchant marine ships was colossal. He had never seen more ships gathered in a single place.

"Save it for the hookers," commented Corporal Doh Jung, smiling.

"It's just a lot of ships. I'm about counting thirty warships, around a hundred support ships, and- Holy shit! That's a lot of tanks!" commented Il-Sung, looking around at the docks as they marched onto the ship.

"No shit," commented Jung, "I've heard that they're using the entirety of the 3rd Army as an invasion force, so that means about 5000 tanks and 120,000 men."

"I don't doubt that we're an invasion force, but who are we invading?" asked Sergeant Li Min.

"Dunno. I heard that they'll tell us once we're out to sea," returned Jung.

"Hey Gyo, you got a smoke?" asked Soldier Kim Jong-Il. Jong-Il was of average height and build with handsome dark hair, and freckles that made him look like some sort of boy from out in the rural countryside, which he was. In spite of the stereotypes associated with country people, Jong-Il barely touched alcohol, and was generally a quiet, intelligent man. He was a boy, really, being only eighteen years old. He wore the ugly issued glasses nicknamed "disease prevention."

"Yeah, I do, but I'm not giving it to you. I'm saving them until we actually deploy. If we go into combat, I might actually want a nicotine buzz. I might share once we actually land because I brought like a dozen cartons with me."

"You're a real great guy, Gyo. You just can't hoard those for yourself, though. If any of use catches you smoking during the trip, you are going to share some smokes with the whole section," ordered Li Min, "And guys, be sure to watch him."

There were some good natured laughs all around.

"Alright, let's find where we're sleeping. Lemme see," said Sergeant Li, looking at a folded piece of paper he'd stuffed into his pants, "We're sleeping on Deck 3."

"That's it, just Deck 3," commented Jung.

"Well yeah. This isn't a luxury liner. They're probably stacking us like sardines in bunks."

"Fuck!" exclaimed, Soldier Park Dong.

"Get over it. Want a tissue, crybaby?" asked the sergeant.

Some more laughs all around as they walked down the metal stairs of the ship down the to the third deck. All twelve of the decks devoted to carrying troops were about the same. A wide avenue divided two main sections of bunks. These bunks were each four-tiered Perpendicular to the main avenue, which also served as a common area and mess, were rows of bunks, two deep and a hundred twenty-five per row on both sides of the avenue.

"You're part of the 2nd Armored Brigade, right?" asked a young naval officer.

"Yes. 4th Battalion, C Company," answered the platoon leader, the 6'6" Jr. Lt. Pak Myung-Dae. Myung-Dae also had broad, wide shoulders and was a veritable wall of muscle. He had a large, curving nose and light brown hair. His skin was weathered tan. His eyes were the color of flint, but managed to express both great joy and sadness. When angry, he raged. When happy, he spoke in a high tenor.

"Look for the area designated for 4th Battalion, find your CO, and he'll direct you to where you are bunking," answered the naval officer.

"Thank you," returned the Lt, saluting the other, shorter man.

* * *

"So General, what do you think? Isn't it a grand fleet. Forty warships, fifteen oilers, and eighty transports," said Admiral Pak-Cho at the bridge of the fast battleship _Blue Storm Rising_.

It was a modern design, doing away with the separate conning tower of older battleships, instead building it into the bridge. It was armed with ten 38 cm/50 guns in its main battery, sixteen 13 cm/40 DP guns, forty 5 cm/L70 AA guns, and 100 3 cm/75 AA guns. The 38 cm turrets all had a blocky look due to their near vertical turret faces designed to provide greater protection against falling fire at long ranges. The two gun 38 cm C and D turrets had a slimmer look than either of the three gun A or B turrets. The eight twin 13 cm turrets had a squarish shape with a curved turret face, each with their own AA fire director. Above and below the DP guns, were the low, sleek turrets of the 5 cm AA guns. The guns were right next to each other, and they each fired a 50 shells a minute. Every pair of 5 cm turrets had their own fire director. The 3 cm guns were mounted in manually operated twin pedestal mounts, 25 per broadside. Their main purpose was to put up a wall of anti-aircraft fire at close ranges of up to 2000 meters, a job they did admirably since they could realistically put out 30,000 rounds in a minute.

"Definitely. I don't there will be any problems that 130,000 troops can't solve," responded General Doh Mal-Chin.

"Do you see that ship over there? That's the cruiser _Union_. She displaces 11,000 tonnes. Armed with nine 18 centimeter guns, eight 13 centimeter DP guns, twenty 5 centimeter AA guns, and forty 3 centimeter AA guns. She's a good ship, and her captain, Ri Chang-Uk, is a good man," said the admiral.

"You really do know the ships of your fleet," commented the general.

"I make a habit of knowing my subordinates. It's a just a part of good leadership," stated Admiral Cho, looking at the setting sun.

"I've got a question for you, Admiral. Why do you command from a battleship, rather than a more modern and dangerous carrier?"

"Well, battleships are better protected, that's all. When I was a kid, I heard this story about a battleship from a long time ago that took 17 bombs and 19 torpedoes to kill. An aircraft carrier would have sunk much earlier. Besides, I like battleships more than carriers. They might be more limited than the carriers, but I like them more. Maybe because I grew up around ships and heard stories about battleships; who knows. I'm just a battleship admiral," answered Cho.

Cho picked up a radio headset and asked over the fleetwide band, "Is everyone ready?"

The admiral received a chorus of assent from the ships one by one.

"Alright gentlemen, today we begin our grand voyage on 15 November of the Year After the War 1561 at 17:33. As we set forth on this journey, let every man know there is no turning back. You've been chosen for this mission because General Doh and I know that you will carry out your duty to your fullest ability. Thank you everyone."

* * *

16 November PB 1561

Hi no Kuni – Fire Country

"Alright team, we're going to be practicing the ambush of a battalion of soldiers. I will warn you, their armor does incorporate a few chakra absorbing seals that reduce the effectiveness of ninjutsu upon them. Not that it really matters, since only clone jutsu are allowed for safety purposes," said Kakashi, "To give a brief rundown of how important a ninja village is for a country's national defense, an average genin is worth about ten to twenty soldiers, an average chunin is worth about a hundred soldiers, and an average jounin is worth about five hundred to one thousand soldiers. Kage level ninja are worth entire armies, as in the field formation, not an entire country's conventional military, but that's only because a kage is limited in where they can be at one time, even with clones," explained Kakashi.

"So how many soldiers are in a battalion?" asked Sakura somewhat nervously.

"Six-hundred, but only four-hundred eighty are combatants. However, units of archers and engines are attached to a company. Now remember, even if you are using dyed practice weapons, control yourselves. They can still kill and these people are on our side. This goes double for you, Naruto and Sasuke."

"Yes, Kakashi-sensei," responded the two.

"Excellent," said Kakashi, smiling underneath his mask, "One more thing, go for the unarmored areas. Your blows won't count if they hit the armor."

The four quickly moved through the woods. The ground was still shrouded with early morning mist. At a safe distance, they halted and hit behind a tree a few hundred meters from the road.

"Why here?" asked Naruto, having the good sense to whisper.

"They do have scouting elements looking for us. A number one mistake by rookie genin, such as yourselves, is to underestimate the competence of a conventional military unit. I saw too many bright young lives extinguished by that fatal error in the last war. What you need to keep in mind is that they don't stray too far from the formation so that they can't be picked off at leisure. Now, what do you think we should do to prepare?"

"I think I should make some clones, and transform them into rocks on the road and have them transform back in the middle of the formation," said Naruto.

"Think. They wear hobnailed sandals. Any soldier stepping on one or a cart rolling over one would disperse the clone and give it away. Try again," answered Kakashi.

* * *

"Do you see that," said Colonel Takahashi Ayumu, pointing toward a flight of bird emerging from the canopy. Ayumu was a surprisingly young man for a colonel, only twenty-nine years old and well muscled body. He had the tan of one from a coastal region. His head was shaved to more comfortable fit under the helmet, a steel skullcap with hanging cheekpieces and attached lames to cover the neck. To protect his eyes, he wore goggles along with the others. As befitting his rank, he wore a two-piece cuirass made from steel with a groin protector and hanging lames to protect his shoulders and upper legs. Solid vambraces and greaves protected his arms and legs. Underneath the metal, he wore a crimson shirt made from a thick, heavy duty weave. His brown trousers were made from heavy duty canvass. A horsehair crest and the gold on his shield. Unlike the soldiers of other armies, the HiKuRi put their faith in heavy infantry rather than heavy cavalry, and it seemed to have worked well for them. They were also one of very few countries that could afford this.

"Yes sir," returned Sergeant Major Yamamoto Isamu, Ayumu's second in command, a grizzled NCO with a long and proud history of service. Unlike his commanding officer, Isamu came from no moneyed family, but the army made every man equal, starting them out a low rank and making them earn more power and responsibility. He was forty years old, a veteran of the last war. His short salt and pepper hair, hard eyes, and squared-off face gave him a serious but fatherly look. He wore armor similar to his commander, albeit slightly less gilded and with a horizontal crest and braided rope across his shoulder.

"Halt! Crossbows and ballistae, ready your weapons!" shouted Colonel Takahashi, "Captains, take charge of your units and assemble into marching battle formation, guarding the baggage train and ranged soldiers!"

"Yes sir!" returned the company leaders. Everyone began to pull the goggles down onto their faces to protect their eyes.

* * *

"It seems they have a general idea of our location," commented Kakashi, "Must have been the birds."

"Hey, the drumbeat changed," said Sakura.

"That's because they are stopping to move into a battle formation. They don't fight in close order formations. Each man stands about two meters from each other, far enough that they don't get in each other's way but close enough that they can support each other. That drumbeat is battle drumbeat rather than a marching beat. One more thing, don't use shuriken unless you are sure you can hit the throat or face because they're practically useless elsewhere."

Kakashi took off, jumping through the trees. His students followed him promptly. They soon came upon the marching formation. They were not noticed in the trees.

"Fire into the trees. That sure as hell ain't a tree color!" yelled a man at the center of the formation.

"Note to self," thought Kakashi, "Teach students proper value of camouflage," as he jumped out of the canopy above a volley of quarrels and a few spears hurled from torsion catapults. Sakura was hit by the dye marked weapons. She was "dead."

Naruto jumped out from the foliage, summoning a number of shadow clones. Most of the clones were dispersed by a well timed volley of lead-weighted darts. Thankfully, Naruto himself was unscratched. Sasuke had not leaped, instead running down the tree to attack the soldiers. A volley of knives were blocked by their shields. Kakashi landed in the midst of the crossbowmen, easily cutting a few of them down. He jumped away before he could get stabbed in the chaos of hand to hand combat. It wasn't like he had eyes in the back of his head like a Hyuuga. Naruto performed similarly, taking out a few of the swordsmen before jumping to follow his leader. Sasuke got caught up in the melee, taking out a good dozen swordsmen before getting bashed with a shield, getting stabbed, and "dying." Another volley of quarrels followed the two ninja, miraculously missing them.

"That's an important lesson, Naruto. Don't do what Sasuke did just now and get bogged down in a melee. You will get stabbed. These aren't like the rabble from Wave; they're professionals," said Kakashi, "Slap a few practice tags onto their shields to clear a path to their commander."

Naruto nodded, readying a few tags.

"Losses?" barked Ayumu, practice sword in hand. It wasn't a long curved blade like the one used by samurai or cavalry, but rather a short, straight stabbing blade. Studies had concluded that a stab wound was more efficient at killing than a slash. About six centimeters of penetration to the torso would kill a human. The only problem was that a thrust was a more difficult guarding position, hence the usage of a large, rectangular shield.

"Ten."

"Fourteen"

"Seventeen"

"Twelve."

Ayumu nodded. He'd lost about forty men. Not unexpected. Yamamoto had told him stories of climbing over hills of their own troops to eventually reach ninja adversaries.

A cloud of smoke and horde of orange told him of the approach of another attack of ninja. They clashed, the clones dispersing into smoke after a good sword hit. Puffs of died smoke exploded in his ranks, "killing" scores of soldiers. A lucky crossbow bolt, caught one of the orange clad ninjas in the shoulder, leaving a mark in a bright white. This one didn't disperse, obviously the real one. Now for the last one. Through the smoke, a jounin level ninja cut his way through Ayumu's forces. Soon, one turned into nine. Ayumu had heard the ninja say "Bunshin no Jutsu," so these were obviously illusionary clones. A kunai bounced off his shield. All of them jumped, one jumping off Yamamoto's shield. There was a certain weight to that, making that the real ninja. He ignored all the other ones. As the ninja jumped, Ayumu did everything his training told him not to do. He swung his sword in a wide arc as the knife came for his neck. The dye marked a long line from the solar plexus to the groin, while the knife marked a long line across his jugular. A double kill.

"Good job there, I did not expect that," said the masked ninja a friendly fashion.

"There wasn't any skill to that, ninja-san. Just some luck. Besides, you killed me, the commanding officer. That last plan was good. None of the overcomplicated bullshit you folks have a reputation for doing, just a good plan that kept it simple. If it wasn't for some luck on my part, you would have escaped unharmed. Besides, you were under a handicap."

"Losses?" shouted the colonel.

"Eighty!"

"Seventy-two!"

"Eighty!"

"Six!"

"Four," said the ninja, smiling underneath that mask.

"Need a hand, ninja-san?" asked the colonel, extending a hand to the allied ninja. The silver haired man took it and the soldier pulled him up.

"I'd recognize that face," said Sergeant Major Yamamoto Isamu, "Hatake Kakashi. Didn't think I'd see you again."

"Oh, Isamu-san. A pleasure to see you again," responded Kakashi, "You're a Sergeant Major now, good job."

"You know each other?" asked Naruto and Ayumu simultaneously.

"Well yeah, Colonel. He ended up attached to my unit for a while to help break the stalemate in the foothills of Earth Country. Remember that story when I had to climb up the hill of my comrades' bodies to reach the enemy, he was the ninja attached to my unit that helped us break through," said the grizzled NCO, "Oh Kakashi-san, this my CO, Colonel Takahashi Ayumu. How's Rin doing?"

"Rin's dead, Isamu-san."

"My apologies, Kakashi-san. Still, how have you been, buddy?"

"I've been pretty well, actually. How's the wife?"

"Two strong sons like me and a pretty daughter like her. She's down with the flu at the moment, though. I wish we weren't doing these exercises, so I could see her," said the soldier, "Any ladies in your life, Kakashi-san?"

"I'm still single."

"That's a shame. Raising a family is a wonderful experience, and a sensible woman should curb your excesses."

* * *

Osteanic Ocean

"Men of the Third Army and 101st Marine Armored Division, it is now time to explain this mission. As I am sure you are all aware, our country is not in a good time. This mission boils down to a resource grab at all costs. Resistance, heavy resistance at that is expected," came the voice of General Doh Mal-Chin.

"This is new," commented Corporal Jung, "Let's see how good my info was."

"With all due respect, shut up Corporal. This seems important," whispered Kim Jong-Il.

"... We are traveling to a foreign land, the Elemental Countries as they are known in the local parlance, in order for us to secure these resources. That is not to say we are a violent nation of conquest. Violence will not be our first option, rather diplomacy..."

"Oh come on, I joined the military to travel the world, meet interesting people, and kill them," whispered Il-Sung, "Not for this talking bullshit."

"Lock it up," whispered Sergeant Li.

"... The training you gentlemen have undergone over the past few months has been for this mission. The Cheonsang Federation cares for its fighting men to prepare them to withstand the trials that lie ahead. I will not lie here. Take a look at the men around you. Chances are, they won't be next to you by the time we finish. Our enemies have supernatural abilities beyond your wildest dreams..."

"That is so bullshit," whispered Jung.

"...We will need to be ever vigilant against these 'ninja.' It is for this purpose that you have familiarized yourselves with the proper procedures of a Federation soldier and the proper way to wear one's uniform..."

"I thought it was just busywork," commented Kim Jong-Il.

"Shut up, Soldier," said the sergeant.

"...A field manual specifically for this operation will be distributed, and every soldier must read it in order to be prepared for this coming battle. Gentlemen, you know your duty and are able to carry out your orders. I trust you, my army, to accomplish this mission to the best of your abilities."

"Sergeant Li, Sergeant Gim, Sergeant Park, follow me to get these field manuals," ordered the imposingly large Lieutenant Myung-Dae.

"Yes sir," chorused the addressed squad leaders as they stood up to follow their leader.

Others had a similar idea and had also stood up to go to where number of sailors had opened up several crates filled with field manuals.

* * *

"So, let's get cracking at this incredibly interesting read," said Kim Min-Su dryly, holding up a copy of the field manual. It was a plain paperback volume, only about 200 pages in length.

"I'm going to try reading this aloud, guys. So prepare yourselves."

"The Elemental Countries are a series of nations located on the continent of Yurasia. As can be determined from their names, they are named after various traditional elements such as fire, wind, water, and other natural phenomena, not the scientific elements..."

"This is going to be a long night," said Chang-Uk.

"You said it," agreed Jun Min-Ho

* * *

30 Nov PB 1561

Osteanic Ocean – Cheonsang Federation Battleship _Blue Storm Rising_

"Do you think that our envoys are going to be dead on arrival?" asked Admiral Pak Cho to General Doh Mal-Chin.

"I hope not. Envoys and diplomats tend to be listened to first, then executed," joked the general darkly.

"I did send out our smallest ships, the destroyers, to spread the message, but a single destroyer could probably annihilate one their fleets with a combination of torpedoes and gunnery. They still rely on _boarding, _something barely better than _ramming,_" said Admiral Pak Cho.

"I wouldn't underestimate them. I think it would be better to have them as friends rather than enemies," returned the calm general, "Besides, I've read the reports, supernatural abilities doesn't say the half of what they can do. I hope that two months of intensive training was enough."

"It should. I think you give them too much credit and our troops not enough," said the admira.

"I suppose so, Admiral, but I am worried. This could be a big folly. What if they allied with our enemies. Then we lose our technological advantage over them," confided General Doh.

"I wonder how our envoys are doing..." said Admiral Pak Cho, trailing off.

* * *

Sea of Mist – Cheonsang Federation Destroyer _Seoul_

"I'm on a boat, motherfucker!" shouted one sailor on the starboard bow.

"Shut the hell up!" yelled another.

"I can't believe we're stuck with these idiots," whispered the translator and former spy in the Elemental Countries Kim Chung-Ho. Chung-Ho was a short man, with long dark hair, a beard, and was more than a little overweight. For the purpose of the spying mission, he'd had to shave his beard, shave his head, and lose about twenty pounds and stay like that. He'd managed somehow.

"I think the Old Man hates us," returned his companion, diplomat Koon Seok. The lanky diplomat puffed a cigar peacefully. He really didn't mind the antics of the sailors. They, in fact, amused him. His act of nuisance was just that, an act. Seok was an older man in his fifties. He had neatly trimmed black hair and green eyes. His face was plain, but he had a charismatic and friendly air. It proved useful in his line of work. He wore a professional looking black suit with a white shirt and black tie.

"In the fuckin' sea!" yelled the same sailor from before.

* * *

Osteanic Ocean – Cheonsang Federation Battleship _Blue Storm Rising_

"I bet they're just fine," finished the Admiral.

* * *

Sea of Mist – Cheonsang Federation Destroyer _Seoul_

"Two contacts, twenty kilometers, speed of 7.5. Courses are tacking towards us," said the radar operator.

"Helm, what's our current speed?" asked the destroyer's captain, Kwang Ha-Neul.

"A steady 30 kilometers per hour, sir," returned the helmsman.

"Radio, are they broadcasting anything?" asked the captain.

"Yes sir. Can't understand a word of the local language."

"Mr. Kim Chung-Ho, would you kindly assist the gentlemen operating the radio?"

"Yes sir," returned the translator walking to the radio room. It was only a short walk down from the bridge under the deck. The room itself was small and rather cramped, warm from both the electronic equipment and body heat. The fat man squeezed, but elbow bumping and stepping on feet was unavoidable.

"Go ahead, Mr. Chung-Ho. Please say: 'This is Cheonsang Federation Destroyer DD101 _Seoul. _Please repeat your message.'"

The translator (and recalled spy) nodded and put on a radio headset. He began to speak into the set, "This is Cheonsang Federation Destroyer DD101 _Seoul. _Please repeat your message. We have suffered a communications error, over."

A voice angrily spoke from the other end, "This is Water Country Frigate _Zuikaku_, you are inside Water Country territorial waters. Maintain your current bearing but slow down. We wish to escort you, over."

"Frigate _Zuikaku_, that order will be passed on. Bear in mind that this is a warship of a sovereign nation so hostile actions can be met with lethal force. We are also carrying diplomats of the Cheonsang Federation to Water Country for talks and to possibly set up an embassy, over."

"Destroyer DD101, you will be escorted to the port of Atarashii Akamachi. Hold your current bearing and slow down. Upon reaching your location, we wish to affirm that you are carrying diplomats, over."

"Frigate _Zuikaku, _that will be passed down. Please be ready for further communications, over."

"Destroyer DD101, acknowledged. Remaining on standby for further communications, out."

"Thanks for your time, gents," said the already sweaty Chung-Ho, "Captain, this is Chung-Ho. The Water Country Frigate _Zuikaku_ would like for us to slow down and escort us to the port of Atarashii Akamachi. I informed them that we are carrying diplomats and that hostile actions may be met with lethal force."

"Thank you, Mr. Kim Chung-Ho. As far as first contact goes, that went reasonably well. Nonetheless, Gunnery, prepare a firing solution on these two ships. Helm, reduce speed to 5 kilometers per hour," said Captain Kwang Ha-Neul.

"Frigate _Zuikaku_, this is Destroyer DD101 _Seoul_. We are slowing our course. Intercept should take approximately 8 hours, over."

"Destroyer DD101, acknowledged. Maintain your heading and speed, over."

"Frigate _Zuikaku, _acknowledged. Maintaining heading and bearing, out."

Due to favorable winds, the Water Country frigates managed to reach the _Seoul _in seven hours. By this time, the sun was starting to set. The two frigates, _Shokaku_ and _Zuikaku_, were about fifty meters long and built with overlapping planks of wood. They had two masts, both junk rigged. They probably displaced around five hundred tonnes. In comparison, the _Seoul_ was one-hundred twenty-five meters long and displaced twenty-five hundred tonnes. The paint was another matter in contrast, the two frigates had much of their hulls painted black with their upper hulls painted white while the destroyer was painted entirely in a light grey color.

Chung-Ho and Seok were both on deck, wearing their suits. The captain was also on deck in his khaki service uniform with several ribbons affixed. The wind whipped at their faces. Kwang Ha-Neul had resorted to using his hand to keep the cover on his head. By this point, all the guns were manned as insurance. A section of marines stood around the three men. Were it not for their differing insignia, they would have been indistinguishable from army soldiers.

The pair of frigates were on both sides of the destroyer, straddling it. Sailors on both sides looked curiously at one their foreign counterparts. At this point, there was no hostility between the two, only curiosity. A plank was lowered to connect the two ships. A man from the _Zuikaku_ stepped forward, backed up with eight of their own marines, who carried crossbows and short, curved blades for fighting in boarding actions. They wore armor made from lames of various materials such as metal, leather, and bamboo. The Cheonsang marines were doing their best to avoid outright laughter at the medieval appearance of their counterparts. The fat translator stepped forward and gave a bow to the apparent commander of the ship. The man returned the bow, though not nearly as deeply.

The translator then spoke up, telling the man, "I am the only translator on this ship. My name is Kim Chung-Ho, the man in the military uniform is Captain Kwang Ha-Neul, and the man next to him is our envoy, Koon Seok. Welcome aboard the Destroyer _Seoul_."

"Thank you, Kim-san. This appears to be a very fine boat. I do have a few questions though, how does it move without sails or float when it seems to made from metal?" said the man from the _Zuikaku_.

"I'm afraid I can't answer your first question, but for the second, there is enough space inside that the overall density is lighter than water, allowing it to float."

"I see, Kim-san. I am Captain Itou Yuu of the Frigate _Zuikaku_. We will escort your ship to the port of Atarashii Akamachi. I understand that this is a historical moment for our nations, so I believe this occasion should be celebrated with a toast to our Water Country and your Cheonsang Federation."

* * *

8 December PB 1561

Water Country Capital – Sodaina Toshi

The voyage to the port of Atarashii Akamachi had taken the ships three days. At her normal cruising speed, the _Seoul _could probably have made the it in a day, but the sailing ships were considerable slower than the destroyer's cruising speed at their fastest. The ship remained at the port with the crew as guests.

The next leg of the journey to have an audience to the capital began. The diplomat, translator, and a fireteam of marines were taken across the country by wagon. Kim Chung-Ho couldn't help but notice the scars of war from graves and shrines to ruined and empty buildings. The people were a hard and grim people. There was national fortitude to never give up and get back up after challenges to succeed. It was an ethic that anyone could admire, but rather pesky to have in a potential enemy. Before they reached the capital of Sodaina Toshi, it rained and dirt roads turned to mud, delaying them a day. The next day, they reached the capital.

Like the capitals of most developing countries, there was an initial layer of slums. Since the city was walled, these slums extended around city. They were one part ghetto, one part refugee camp, and one part tent city. There was mud all around. Soldiers with armor made from lacquered leather and other materials were nearly always in sight to keep order. Their prodding spears kept the pathways clear. The marines called at them along the way, using some of the local language they'd been taught in the field manual. Unsurprisingly, they'd also picked up a decent grasp of how to curse in the local tongue. The Water Country soldiers sometimes returned friendly waves, but they were often ignored or received less than amused looks.

Things were vastly cleaner and more peaceful inside the walls of the city. Buildings rose several stories. Some of the marines guffawed at the pagodas like country bumpkins, having seen nothing like them in their lives. However, above all this loomed the imposing figure of the Daimyo's palatial castle. Here, people were vastly less haggard and seemed happy. Shops were open for business. It was an amazing shift from the squalor outside the walls.

"Big change, wouldn't you say?" asked Seok, puffing another of his cigars. Thankfully, there were no windows otherwise the wagon would have been filled with smoke. The marines were smoking, Seok was smoking, Chung-Ho puffed a pipe he'd purchased both for his pipe collection as much as its utility for smoking.

"Yup," agreed Chung-Ho.

"It's like refugee camps fucking everywhere," said the sergeant, "They're all shitty. Prisoners probably have it slightly better than refugees. However, I have tried and failed at giving a damn."

"You cold-hearted SOB," said Seok jokingly.

"I know, but when it comes to protection, a cold-hearted SOB with a gun is better than some fucking limp-dicked, pacifistic pansy. I've seen some of those guys, I never knew they really did stack shit that high," returned Sergeant Hateumaen, "Those fuckers deserve some six-point-three-five millimeter full metal jacket between their eyes."

Hateumaen's foul sense of humor and generally crude language almost never failed to make anyone laugh. It was as much a part of him as his sergeant rank. He wasn't just _a _Non-Commissioned Officer, but _the_ Non-Commissioned Officer. He smiled as everyone else laughed. It wasn't cruel laughter because the man was genuinely well liked.

"Hey Butterball, you sweaty?" asked the man.

"Am I ever not?" returned Chung-Ho, "Besides, I'm proud to be one fat mofo."

Hateumaen laughed before saying, "I'm so proud we taught you to swear like a sailor. You could come in and fuck my sister, man. Still, your mama would make you deepthroat a bar of soap if she heard you talk like that."

"We have arrived," said the driver who hadn't understood a word of the passengers' conversation in the back of his vehicle.

"Thank you for this service," said Kim Chung-Ho.

"Alright, we've got to proceed on foot from here," explained the translator.

"Fix bayonets, we're looking sharp today," ordered the sergeant, as he mounted the knife bayonet onto the rifle.

"Port arms! Right Shoulder Arms!" he sounded off, as the rifles went into their hands before the barrels rested against their shoulder with the butts in their hands.

"Tell the guards that we're the party from the Cheonsang Federation that wishes to speak with the Daimyo," said Koon Seok, straightening out his suit.

Once Chang-Un explained, the guards brought them through the winding corridors of the castle. Eventually, they were guided to outside the throneroom of the castle. They were told that the Daimyo would see them shortly.

"Daimyo-sama, the envoys from the Cheonsang Federation are here to see you."

The Daimyo of Water Country was kneeling on an expensive mat. His hall was ostentatious with gold leaf decorating intricate carvings of mythological figures. The floor was made from polished wood. Elegantly beautiful white walls lent an elegant beauty to the room. Hanging in the rear of the spacious chamber was a lavish tapestry depicting the founding of Water Country.

"Enter," commanded the country's ruler.

The eight men entered the room, six soldiers and two civilians. The soldiers were dressed in camouflage patterned fatigues with the sleeves rolled up and round steel helmets. They carried strange metal weapons with knives affixed to the ends. These seemed to short to make a good spear. The soldiers' apparent leader barked something, and they presented their weapons in what the Daimyo interpreted as a salute to him. The two gentlemen wearing suits bowed down to him, befitting his position.

"I am Daimyo Ono Ryuu of Water Country. For what purpose are you gentlemen here?"

They discussed something in their own language for a little bit before the fat one said, "Ono-sama, I am Kim Chang-Un, a translator of the Cheonsang Federation, and this is my companion Koon Seok, a diplomat of the Cheonsang Federation."

"I see. What do you want?" inquired the Daimyo, folding his hands.

"Today, we have two simple requests. We'd like somewhere to establish a trading outpost, perhaps a smaller islands, and Admiral Pak Cho respectfully requests your presence on the battleship _Blue Storm Rising _to meet and dine with the heads of state of the other nations for the purpose of encouraging a greater understanding between our nations. I've been told that the chefs wish to prepare some of your traditional food to go along with ours."

"I will consider this. However, I would like to bring several ninja from the Hidden Mist Village with me as guards. Furthermore, I want this _Blue Storm Rising_ without its accompanying fleet."

The two diplomats discussed something in their own language for a little bit. This was already starting to annoy him. It didn't matter if someone was reading their mind, they still would be unable to figure out the language. Even if they used the translator, if the structure had no relation to the two languages, it wouldn't help that much. Against a translator this fluent, it would be an exercise in futility since they didn't think as they converted the languages, acting on instinct. Against a translator not nearly as fluent, they would think of the terms inside their own language. At best, some vocabulary could be picked up, but without knowledge of structure such information was mostly useless.

"I'll consider it. However, you are welcome to stay in my castle at this time. Guards, please find guest rooms for these men," said the Daimyo.

The Cheonsang party talked a little amongst themselves before leaving. It would do them no good to refuse the hospitality of a daimyo. They left and the room was quiet for a little bit. A shadow dropped from the roof. Her feet lightly pattered on the floor. While obviously feminine, no other features aside from the brown eyes that lurked behind the eye slits of a black cloth mask that covered here entire head. Everything she wore was black.

"Yamako-san, is that you?" inquired the Daimyo, who had not moved.

"Yes sir," replied the ninja softly.

"Excellent. Would you please gather some information on our new 'guests.' No assassination, since killing the messenger is a declaration of war. Just observe them."

"Understood, Daimyo-sama," returned the shadow as she slipped back into her domain, one of darkness.

* * *

"So how do you think that went?" asked Kim Chang-Uk.

"About as well as expected," responded Seok, lounging on one of the cushions that had been provided for them, "Oh, Sergeant Hateumaen, try not to get cleaning oil on this nice room. It really wouldn't serve us to offend our host."

"Alright," answered Hateumaen, now reassembling his freshly cleaned and field-stripped rifle, "You heard that boys? Don't make a mess."

"Aye, sir."

* * *

Where I get the names

Atarashii Akamachi - Jap. New Red Town (using Google translate)

Sodaina Toshi - Jap. Majestic City (using google translate)


End file.
